


Some Berry Gunk

by deadpaint



Series: Disciples Of Skeeck [1]
Category: Disciples Of Skeeck
Genre: Creepypasta, Dystopian, Fantasy, Hate, Horror, Innocence, Love, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadpaint/pseuds/deadpaint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In some dark unimportant place, Lidalada Ewwitz shrivels away into a pool of her own misery. Wrapped into a life of horror and sicknesss, she slowly learns to accept the idea of evil and she learns to long for chaos and destruction instead of dreading it. One fateful night while searching for bugs to torture, she finds a dim little firefly bumping against the breeze in the deep evening. Only slowly as the cracks in her mind grow darker, and  as the hate in her heart grows deeper will she learn that the ultimate evil is more childish than she could of ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Berry Gunk

Note- In this letter, I shall not cuss, for cussing is bad and shows a sign of low intelligence. Plus I think its dumb and unoriginal and anyone who disagrees with me is a lifeless idiot that deserves to have their tips cut off and cooked in a pot of hot lead while they die of polio. Hi, how are you doing? I'm sure your just fine aren't you? Well guess what? I don't care. Actually I lied. I do care, I care a lot, just not in a good way. You see I sincerely truthfully dislike you with all my brain and soul. I say brain because that is the place emotions really come from, not the heart! I dislike you so much in fact, that my hope is that when your worthless body becomes a carcass, it will happen slowly. Slowly and hurtfully, Like someones spit on your tip that tears through your entire ugly body up into your brain and slowly disintegrates your stupid face making your flesh fall off. Then you would eat a salty treat because your stupid like that and the salt from the treat would spill on your naked dermis and by the time your over you will be nothing more than slug foam decorating the side walk. Yes that sounds just right, but maybe it would be even more delightful for me if you were instead eaten alive, by I don't know vermin? Yeah, that way you would be able to feel every drop of their filthy grease as they tear into you and swim in your sauce and make treats of your worthless innards. Yes yes that would indeed be lovely for me. Do you perhaps wonder why my friendly chap? If you do, then I will simply explain that the two reasons are 1. I don't like you and 2. It is because your a person and if you are a person then you are a selfish. Like me, but since I am a hypocrite I am going to judge you anyway. You my friend are no better than a bag of Guano for this reason, excuse me, no not even that. You are the guano itself. No, not even that! You are the smell the guano makes when it seers in the hot sun. Yes that is bad enough, you are a steaming artificial fart no matter who you are and it is because of that same reason i presented before. You are a horrible little selfish. Oh whats that now? you don't think your that selfish? Well let me ask you this have you ever been sad friendly chap? AHA! you have haven't you! well let me ask you this, did you have many good reasons to not be sad? If you didn't, keep reading. Did you ever have at least one good reason in all of your existence to not be sad? If you didn't, keep reading. Can you hear? No? Can you talk? No? Can you walk? No? Can you see? No? Yes! Yes you can see! If you couldn't you wouldn't be reading this horribly written piece of tadpole guano. So the one thing I know you can do is see. Well guess what? There is someone somewhere far away that shares your name, age, height, weight, and feelings, who CAN'T see! Trust me I did the geometry. Didn't you ever stop to think about that while you were crying about your dead parents or the way you looked or something stupid like that? It doesn't even have to be sight, there are copies of you who suffer from things like hunger, abuse, cancer, whatever and some of them manage to deal with it and accept their fate. My main point here in this message is to tell you that no matter how bad you think your situation is, their is someone in the galaxy who would be happy to trade lives with you, yet you refuse to even attempt to trade lives with them. You will forever be the equivalent to the smell of a melted bag of guano filled with rotten cheese and period blood because of it and also I still don't like you! -Yours deceitfully- someone who is probably dead by now.

If you ever happen to find yourself reading this blatantly obnoxious and immature piece of garbage, forgive the thin empty tube of liquid sour candy that carried it across the filthy canals and deep muck covered swamp marshes of the sour-woods. Forgive the vessel that carried it across endless stormy oceans for what may have been countless years venturing across the gloomy bloodstream of this world. Forgive the currents of these streams and the waves of the dirty sea that pushed the destiny of this despicable little paper into your path. It was not natures doing even though it took part in the result of your encounter. Whoever who has had the misfortune of finding the empty plastic tube with the little piece of filthy paper rolled into its core, whether it be in a stream or a lagoon, should only put to blame the person responsible for the creation of the message along with their act of throwing it into the earths circulation with the intent of some curious soul from a far off land to end up reading it. If you are a sensitive person then this message may have ruined your day. No one blames you if it did, in fact its a good thing. Most people would of read this and thrown it back into bank from which they found it on or they would of laughed at its absurdity and showed it to their friends and family as a joke. If this message hurt you then it means that you met someone new. It means that someones hands crept into the darkness of your body and plucked at the lobes of your brain as the curves of their fingers made your brain release a chemical into your body that ended up "ruining" your day. You re-winded the years it took for this paper to travel across the many thousands of currents or waves that may have taken it on countless bodies of water to present itself in your wake, with its glimmering plastic exterior and archaic camouflage to the dirt and mud. It is not important how it arrived, the important factor of this situation is the fact that the person had taken out the anguish they were feeling at that precise moment and dumped it into you. You became their victim, the one who they used to dispose of their trash. You had fed off the disease and because of that you were now a sort of parasite to an unknown host. This pain now filled and confused you and as minimal as it may have been, the encounter had shifted the small elements of your life for just one day and pushed you to feel certain dilemmas that would of never crossed your mind had you not untwisted the cap of that rotting plastic. It may have been smaller than the death of your favorite movie character, but this unknown host still effected you and you will never know who it was or why they would of bothered to do this to you. But before you become too skeptical on the matter, try to understand that the person who wrote this message was probably having a pretty bad day already. If you were curious enough, you could sit on a wooden bench in the middle of whatever society you exist in, whether it be urban or rural, and you could spend whole summer sunsets wondering about the hands responsible for such a pointless message and who the tendons attached them onto. In reality you would never even find out anything, face it the world is too large and their is too many people to even care. It is the equivalent to finding barrages of colorful words spray painted onto brick walls in forbidden areas and trying to track down the culprit. It is an impossible task and any one who would dedicate even a second of their time trying to find that person is an idiot. But lets say that you could somehow figure out who wrote those colorful profanities or who slathered their graphite onto that little dreadful message? If you could somehow go back to the precise moment on which they began to scribble the dashes that make up the first letter and the very last moment when the tips of their fingers stopped touching the plastic lining as the message was flung high into the air onto the bottom of some cold brook, you would learn of quite a wonderful yet awful tale indeed.

Besides how angry and desperate the message had been you can only imagine how safe she felt when she had written it.  
She was spread out on the floor, her stomach touching the ground and her cheek sinking in it. The violent crashes and wails that the storm had brewed for hours now, had at last began to cool down and come to its senses. Only once every couple of mumbles did it shout one last time for some kind of childish relief. Besides that the room was silent. The blood like drips that echoed against the metal pipes outside the dirty window were not significant enough to be sounds. They paled in comparison to the showers that had abandoned them. The girls mind was oblivious to them nether less because of the state she was now in. If you were to take a look at her now, you would think she looked a bit silly. Her hair was all over the place, her clothes had been outstretched out and looked as if they belonged to some older relative of hers, and she had a big old fashion clothespin pinching her nostrils together making her nose look all pointy and crowlike. The piece of paper lied not too far from her, its tiny edges flapping in response to the air that rushed through the room from the cheap fan that helped cool and circulate the room. One could wonder how that air was even able to enter her domain though. She was cradled deep inside of a big cardboard package, which was also cradled deep inside of an even bigger cupboard. The cupboard was also hidden in its own way. It was accompanied by a family of furniture including shelves, drawers, nigh tables, and other cupboards, all wooden. The room was dark and a bit smelly. It was quite worn down and that was no surprise considering the fact that it belonged to some old tenement on the wrong part of town. This did not matter to the girl right now, not the thunder not the darkness, nothing. It was because of that clothespin she had on her nose. It had caused her to faint from lack of oxygen and her body was now automatically getting air from her still open mouth. She had done this voluntarily and if you would have seen what was happening just a couple of hours ago then just maybe you could find a way to understand. It may have looked like it was the storm but it was more than just that. It had been on that dark afternoon. She had come home from school and as soon as she heard the thunder she ran outside into her dumpster of a neighborhood and began to run in circles around the block. It was an absurd and childish thing for an individual her age to be doing but she did it and every twenty circles she would yack on the side of the road and then continue her procedure. She was doing this hoping that a bolt of stray lightning would strike her on the top of her head and cause her to explode. She giggled immaturely as she ran and hummed some foreign nursery rhyme that’s name is not important. It wasn’t until the wind hit and the clouds darkened that she became frightened and ran back inside of the dirty little building that housed her. She did not like the wind, it had ruined her game and she had become enraged at her own feelings. That is when she wrote the message. Then she began to scratch herself and scream uncontrollably until she could not handle herself and pulled the clothespin out of her pocket. The wrestle with life and death was a gruesome one. It was a nasty sight to see, she would hold in the coughs and the wheezes and roll on the ground to prevent her from opening her mouth, she did it until her lungs gave in and her body shut down. It was her way of escaping her own anguish and feelings, it was done.


End file.
